The Call of Bravery

CHAPTER SIX



LIA’S GRIP ON the shoulder belt became white-knuckled as the Suburban slowed. “Are you sure they’re expecting us, too?”

“I’m sure.”

She could tell Conall was trying to sound relaxed. It was absolutely no comfort to her at all that he had failed. He didn’t want to be here. She and the kids were camouflage, and she, for one, didn’t feel exuberantly leafy.

The boys looked… Lia stole a glance over her shoulder. Surprisingly, although they looked nervous, they were also craning their necks as Conall turned into a driveway. Sorrel was the one who sat stiffly, her expression one of massive indifference that thinly masked anxiety.

As if she had anything to fear. Lia, now, felt like a dumb lamb trotting through the chute into the slaughterhouse. Accompanied by a federal law enforcement agent, she was going to a potluck at a cop’s house. Where yet another guest was the local police chief.

Way to avoid attention.

Why, oh, why hadn’t she said gee, thanks, but no?

At least Stacy had been able to babysit and Lia hadn’t had to bring the two obviously Hispanic, Spanish-speaking children. Although she had no doubt Conall had mentioned them.

The house was a white-painted bungalow. The backyard was enclosed by a six-foot board fence, gate closed. The lot was a large one for being in town, and it looked like there might be a smaller house in back.

The Suburban came a stop behind a massive black SUV. Conall set the brake and turned off the engine. Nobody moved. After a minute, Lia turned to look at him. Really look at him. That was the moment when she realized he was even more nervous than she was.

“Have you met your brothers’ wives?” she asked.

“Duncan’s. Her name is Jane. We said hello the other night.”

“But not Niall’s.”

“No.” Staring at the still-closed gate, he looked grim unto death.

“Aren’t we getting out?” Walker asked.

Somebody had to move. Lia guessed that would be her.

With a smile over her shoulder, she said, “You bet. You can help carry things.” She released her seat belt and got out. The others followed her example. By the time she was distributing covered dishes, the gate had opened, and first kids then adults poured out.

“Oh, let me take that,” one of the women exclaimed, relieving Lia of a casserole dish. “My goodness, you didn’t have to bring so much.” She lifted it closer to her nose and took a whiff. “Although it does smell fabulous.”

“Thank you,” Lia said, pasting a smile on her mouth. “I wanted to make up for you, well, getting saddled with a bunch of strangers.”

The woman’s smile was warm. “Don’t be silly. We’re glad to have you. I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I? I’m Jane, Duncan’s wife.”

“Rowan,” the smaller, blonde woman said. A little girl pressed close to her side. A boy, much bolder, had already approached Walker and Brendan.

“Hi. My name’s Desmond. This is my house. I’m seven. How old are you?”

“I’m eight,” Walker said. “And my brother is ten.”

“Oh. You want to come meet my dog? His name’s Super Sam.”

Super Sam broke the ice. A homely but happy creature with a tail whapping back and forth like a metronome, he licked hands and whined and tried to stick his nose under the napkin covering the dish Brendan carried. One of the men lifted it out of danger in the nick of time.

“Sam! You have to wait for leftovers.”

Lia felt herself relaxing. Everyone looked friendly. Except she hadn’t seen Duncan yet. This man must be Niall, the middle brother. He and Conall bore a close resemblance, but he had short-cropped hair that was a deep auburn.

He gripped Conall’s shoulder. “Good to see you.”

“And you.” Conall produced one of his charming smiles for the women. “Jane. And you must be Rowan.”

Introductions followed. The little girl’s name was Anna. Conall drew Sorrel out and coaxed her into saying hello. Eventually they all moved into the big backyard with a huge apple tree, a small cottage at the rear of the property, and a smoking barbecue grill being tended by the other brother, whose gaze moved swiftly but thoroughly over all of them before he nodded a greeting. He was the harshest-looking of the three men, she thought, until his eyes rested briefly on his wife and his face softened.

“I heard a few squalls from the house,” he said.

Jane sighed. “Thinking she’d nap while I ate was too good to be true.”

“We’ll take turns,” he said.

“A baby?” Lia accompanied the other two women into the house, leaving Sorrel standing beside Conall. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, but her hands kept twitching as if she didn’t know where to put them.

“I’m sorry we don’t have one her age,” Rowan murmured, setting Lia’s bean salad on the counter and nodding toward the teenager.

Lia laughed. “That’s asking a bit much. Sorrel is good with babies, if Jane wants to add her to the rotation while she eats.”

Jane reappeared with a beautiful, redheaded girl. “Meet Fiona, just shy of six months. And if Sorrel would like to hold her, many blessings on her.”

The two women were obviously friends, but they included Lia with such warmth, she had mostly relaxed by the time they went back outside.

The first hamburgers and hotdogs were ready for buns and condiments. Rowan told everyone to grab plates and go into the kitchen to dish up.

“After,” she said, grabbing her son as he started dashing by, “washing hands.” She leveled a look at Lia’s two foster sons. “You, too.”

They both looked alarmed but nodded.

“And you, pumpkin,” she said more quietly, shooing her daughter after the boys.

Conall had one foot on the picnic table bench and a beer in his hand. Niall sat across from him, and Duncan stood with a spatula and a beer only a couple of feet away. They were an extraordinary group of men, Lia couldn’t help noticing. Not exactly handsome. Their faces were too craggy, too…lived-in to qualify for GQ. But they were all broad-shouldered, well-built and very, very sexy. And all three had some quality that she guessed was cop. A watchfulness, a sense that they were aware of their surroundings in a way most people weren’t.

Jane carried Fiona over to Conall. “Your niece,” she said simply.

He studied the little girl, who studied him right back. “With Niall’s hair,” he said, a smile in his voice. He tossed a grin at his oldest brother. “Bet that took you by surprise.”

“Dad was a redhead.”

That wiped out Conall’s smile. After a moment he said, “Yeah, I guess he was.” To Fiona, he said, “Hey, little one.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he laughed.

But Lia’s heart ached, because she didn’t believe any of those smiles or laughs. She knew she was right not to when his eyes met hers and for a moment she glimpsed desperation.

There wasn’t anything she could do for him but make conversation and give him pockets of time when he didn’t have to try so hard, so that’s what she did. When she and Sorrel went to dish up, he came with them, sticking so close his arm brushed Lia’s a few times. He sat with the two of them, too, but she was intrigued to see that he also kept an eye out for the boys, not seeming satisfied until they had settled at the second picnic table with Desmond and Anna.

Jane gently questioned Sorrel and volunteered the fact that she owned a dance shop. “I so wanted to dance when I was a girl,” she said, “but I never had the chance. My father didn’t approve. So I’ve been making up for it ever since. I take classes—although it’s been hard getting my body back into shape since I had Fiona,” she added ruefully.

Her husband’s mouth quirked. “Her store is filled with everything pink and sparkly.”

She grinned at him. “We sell black leotards, too. But I do a good business in costumes for dance recitals.”

Rowan talked about her desire to go back to school to get her teaching certificate, and Lia admitted that she had a certificate but had never used it. She’d been a social worker before inheriting her great-aunt’s house.

“I wanted to focus on a few kids at a time,” she said. “Sorrel’s been a huge help with the boys, and even more with the two little kids I have temporarily.”

“I guess you couldn’t bring them, could you?” Jane said. “You’d have needed a school bus.”

“This is nap time for them, anyway.”

“Like it should be for my darling daughter.” Jane pretended to frown at Fiona, who was currently on her dad’s lap, being fed bites of baby food in between his bites of potato salad and hamburger.

Lia became increasingly aware of Conall’s big body so close to her. Their thighs touched, their shoulders bumped. She could see the individual bristles on his chin when she was unwary enough to glance at him. He leaned his head close once and said, “Can I get you seconds of anything?” and took her plate when she asked for some of the fruit salad. It felt…odd, the two of them in the position of being a couple when she really hardly knew him.

Except that that wasn’t true, of course. You couldn’t help getting to know someone you lived with. She knew that he often forgot and left the toilet seat up, which presumably meant that he didn’t live full-time with a woman. He was neat; he’d been careful to clean his whiskers from the sink when he shaved, and he was generous about doing other laundry besides his when he ran a load and about helping clean the kitchen after meals. It was funny, really, because he was more helpful than Jeff, whose wife, Lia had come to suspect, must wait on him hand and foot.

Conall was unfailingly courteous, and he was as wary as any foster child she’d ever taken in. And yet he was amazing with the kids. When Niall suggested a game of horseshoes, Conall accompanied Walker and Brendan and she saw him bending over, showing them how to throw, guiding their hands, until she got a lump in her throat. After a minute he called Sorrel over and had her playing, too. All three men supervised, Niall carrying Anna piggyback, Duncan bouncing his daughter against his shoulder.

Lia stayed where she was, watching. Across the table from her, Rowan said softly, “He’s as good with them as Niall was with Desmond and Anna.”

Without taking her eyes from him, Lia said, “I don’t think he realizes he is.”

“Niall didn’t want to care about my kids.” Rowan waited until Lia looked at her, startled. “They didn’t have a very good childhood, you know.”

“I’m not…” Oh, boy, was this awkward. “I think you’ve misunderstood our relationship. Conall and I aren’t… Well, anything, really. He’s staying at my house because of his job.” She couldn’t tell if Rowan understood what she was saying. “I suspect he asked us to come today so he could lose himself in the crowd, so to speak.’

Jane had joined them, and now both women laughed. “We guessed,” Jane said. “But he doesn’t treat you like a casual acquaintance, either. Or—” her head turned toward the horseshoe pit “—the kids.”

“I think,” Lia said softly, “he sees himself in the boys.”

They wanted to know Walker and Brendan’s history, which she shared. She was grateful when they continued to ask questions about fostering children instead of quizzing her about Conall.

The men wandered over eventually, and conversation became general. Lia found herself laughing often, her cheeks flushed with pleasure at the company…and with her awareness of the man who once again sat close enough to touch when either of them shifted on the bench. Despite her enjoyment, Lia became aware of a deep ache of what she finally, disconcerted, decided was envy.

She had always wanted a family like this. She loved her parents, of course, but she would have given almost anything for siblings. Being an only child was lonely, especially given the lack of extended family nearby.

Mama had sisters and brothers in Mexico, of course, and they had children, Lia’s cousins. She remembered them distantly from the year she and Mama had lived down there, when Lia was five. As an adult she had visited their village in Chiapas, but she was a visitor, with her paler skin and odd-colored eyes and American ways more of a curiosity than really family. She’d had the awful feeling that their friendliness had more to do with their hope that she’d help some of the young adults come to the United States than to any closer feelings.

This was the kind of family she wanted. Laughter, affection, people who would love your children if anything ever happened to you. She could tell that much of the relaxed atmosphere came from the two women, and she wished she knew more about them. Had they grown up taking this for granted?

But she couldn’t exactly ask them.

The ache stayed, and some of it was for Conall who, on the surface, was comfortable sipping a beer, laughing at his brothers’ stories, telling a few of his own, but who was really faking it, Lia suspected. She intercepted a couple of keen glances that made her wonder if Niall and Duncan suspected, too. Jane kept an eye on her husband as if worried about him, and that made Lia wonder if he was faking it, too.

The more she became aware of the undercurrents, the more she realized her envy might be misplaced. Maybe nothing was as it appeared.

Except she didn’t believe that. The way Niall touched his wife occasionally, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was there and his; the way Duncan’s hard mouth softened for Jane, his gentle hands on small, redheaded Fiona. Undercurrents there might be, but there was love here, too.

The ache intensified at the fear she might never find this. Maybe she’d never be anything but a temporary mother.

You made your choices, she reminded herself. She should be glad to know there were families like this, given the awful backgrounds so many of her kids came from. If she could give them even a glimpse of what it could be like, hope to hold on to while their own families worked out their problems or they waited for adoptive parents, then she was doing something worthwhile. She didn’t usually waste time and heartache being greedy and wishing for everything. Maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t come today.

But no. She was no good at resisting when someone needed her, and today Conall had, if only temporarily.

Story of her life.

* * *

WELL, THAT WAS DONE, Conall thought. The need to relieve Henderson had been a good excuse for an early departure. He couldn’t help noticing how hastily Lia had agreed to head home. Maybe she was worried about Julia and Arturo, or maybe she was bored out of her skull, he didn’t know. Sorrel had slipped quietly out of the yard with them and into her seat in the Suburban, but the boys couldn’t make such an easy getaway. Desmond wouldn’t let them. He followed, chattering and wishing Walker could play soccer, too, cuz there was a spring league, you know, and he was starting swimming lessons pretty soon, too, when school let out. Swim lessons were fun. Maybe Lia would bring Walker and Brendan, too. Did they know how to swim?

Conall swore his mouth was still moving even as the Suburban backed out of the driveway. He had to admit to being mildly amused at Niall stuck living with a motor-mouth. Niall never was much of a talker himself.

The drive was mostly quiet, the kids having all lapsed into silence. Once Conall glanced at Lia and said, “You okay?” and she nodded.

At home, with a hand on her arm he stopped her from getting out with the others. “Thank you for coming.”

Her smile was unbelievably sweet. “You’re very welcome. We all had a good time, you know. You have a nice family.”

“Yeah.” The concept was new enough to him to take him aback. “I guess I do.”

She touched him this time, a quick squeeze on his bare forearm. “You’re lucky,” she said, her voice momentarily husky. And then she slipped out, slamming the door and hurrying toward the house.

He was left sitting behind the wheel, staring after her, feeling…hell. Dazed. Normally it took a pretty good punch to make his head swim. Frowning, he tried to figure out what she’d done or said and couldn’t put his finger on it.

He heard her talking to the babysitter as he went upstairs, but didn’t see her. Later, Brendan brought up a light supper for him and he told himself he was glad he wasn’t downstairs with everyone else, including his partner. He’d used up his social quotient for the day. He was irritated that he felt restless rather than relaxing into the pleasure of solitude.

Except for a couple of visits to the john, he didn’t leave the attic again until morning. He’d missed breakfast, it seemed, and ate a bowl of cold cereal at the kitchen counter. Muted explosions sounded from the living room, where the TV was already on. Sorrel’s bedroom door had been shut when Conall came down; he had no idea whether she was up.

The phone rang, and someone answered elsewhere in the house or outside. A moment later the front door opened and footsteps hurried in. Leaving his bowl in the sink, he stretched and then wandered out of the kitchen to see what was going on.

Lia, carrying Julia, was dashing for the stairs.

“Where’s Arturo?” Conall asked.

She spun to face him. “Oh. I left him with the boys. They can watch him for a few minutes. That was Julia and Arturo’s caseworker. He’s on his way to pick them up, so I need to hurry and pack their things.”

He loved the way her cheeks flushed. Lia wasn’t a very good liar. Her voice had hitched on the word caseworker, not so as most people would have noticed, but reading people’s motives and intentions and honesty was a life or death skill for him.

“Need help?” he asked.

“No.” She took a couple more steps, then stopped. “Unless…”

Even before she turned, he knew what she had in mind. Damn, he’d had to open his mouth.

The next thing he knew, he was left with an armful of baby girl while Lia dashed upstairs. What was he supposed to do with her?

She looked at him with equal alarm. When her face started to redden, he jiggled her. “Uh…what say we go back outside? You like it outside, don’t you?”

She was withholding judgment. The day was nice, he discovered the minute they stepped out. A hint of spring crispness in the air, a promise of warmth by midday. Conall thought of sitting down on the rocker, but the little girl’s suspicious stare convinced him she required greater distraction. Cows, he decided. Or maybe horses. Yeah, the pony was right beside the fence.

He carried Julia down the steps and jogged across the lawn. “Horsie,” he said. “No, el caballo. Actually, caballito. Sí?”

She didn’t care what the pony was called. Babbling happily but unintelligibly, she twisted in his arms and tried to lunge for the fat little beast, managing to grab a fistful of white mane when the pony stuck his head between fence rails.

“Bueno. Pet the pony. See?” He demonstrated, patting the neck.

Julia laughed and pulled hard. One of her hands separated from the mane, taking a few long strands of stiff hair with it. Conall winced and gently pried her other fist from the poor animal. He spread her fingers and ran her hand over the nose, and was surprised by an expression of rapt delight on her round face.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “that’s more like it. Nice pony. Caballito. That’s how we pet the pony.”

His head came up when he heard a car engine on the road. The vehicle wasn’t either the pickup or SUV with tinted windows he and Henderson had seen coming and going from the neighbor house. This one, he could tell even before it turned into Lia’s driveway, was aging and needed a tune up.

The car was a big old Buick, almost old enough to beg for restoration if it weren’t for the fact that it probably got twelve miles to the gallon. Besides, who’d want it? The door squealed when the driver opened it. Conall wondered what shape the shocks were in and how the car had handled the potholes.

A Hispanic man who might be in his forties stepped out, his dark eyes going right away to Conall who, carrying Julia, strolled over to meet him.

“Lia expecting you?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m Mateo Gonzalez.” He had a slight accent. “And you are?”

“Conall MacLachlan. Julia and I were visiting el caballito.” He grinned at the little girl, who grinned back.

“I’m here to pick Julia and her brother up. Her, er, aunt has arrived to get the kids.”

“Has she,” Conall said blandly. “And here I thought Lia said their mother would be back for them. When she could make it.”

The guy was sweating. Conall knew he shouldn’t toy with him, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Lia burst out the front door, and both men’s gazes swung to her. “Mateo. You’ve met Conall? I’ve got their stuff, but I’ll have to go back for Arturo. Oh, and their car seats are still in the Subaru.”

“Right. I’ll go get them,” Conall said.

Julia indignantly declined to go into Mateo’s arms. Accordingly, Conall carried her to the barn where the Subaru was parked, handing the other man one of the child seats while Conall grabbed the second one with his free hand. Mateo had buckled both into the back of his Buick by the time Lia returned, breathless, with Arturo. While Mateo loaded their limited possessions into the trunk and slammed it, Conall watched as Lia settled Arturo into his car seat and said her goodbyes. Her eyes were glazed with tears as she took Julia from him and circled the car to put her in, too. Then she and Mateo talked quietly, giving a couple of quick glances at Conall, before Mateo got in and drove away. Lia watched it go with one hand pressed to her mouth.

“How long have you had them?”

“Only…uh, three weeks.” She gave a tiny, resigned sniff. “I know I’m being silly, but I hate to say goodbye.”

“But you do it all the time.”

She nodded.

“It must be a hell of a lot harder when you’ve had the kids for months.”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why foster if it kills you every time they leave?” He didn’t begin to get it.

Her eyes were still shiny when they touched on his, then slid away. “It’s…complicated.”

Complicated. What did that mean? And why did it matter to him?

He shook his head. “You need to learn not to get attached.”

Lia’s laugh was small and broken. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be kidding?”

“How can I make them feel safe and loved if I don’t get attached?”

“Pretend,” he said, with a shrug. “Say the right things, cook for ’em, rock them to sleep if you have to, but don’t let yourself feel anything.”

Her eyes searched his. “So easy.”

He shifted, not liking the pity he saw on her face. “It has to be when you do my job.”

After a minute Lia said, “I suppose you’re right. But you know, it’s a lot easier to pretend with adults than it is with kids.”

Conall guessed that might be true. Maybe that’s why kids usually made him uneasy. The way they’d stare so openly, laying their emotions out there as foolishly as a wild animal that didn’t guard its scent from predators.

When he didn’t say anything, Lia started for the house. “I need to check on the boys.”

To her back, he said, “Lia.”

She stopped without turning.

He made his voice hard. “Tell me Matteo doesn’t know who I am and why I’m here.”

Her shoulders stiffened. At last, slowly, she faced him. “He won’t say anything.”

“Goddamn it!” he roared. “The one and only thing I asked of you.”

Her eyes widened in outrage. “The one and only?” She stalked to him and stabbed his chest with her index finger. “Along with breakfast, lunch and dinner? Sharing my bathroom with two men?” Her voice kept rising. “Making excuses every time anyone I know wants to visit? Scaring me now that I know I have drug dealers living next door?”

Would it help to argue that he was doing most of his and Jeff’s laundry and helping clean the kitchen? Seeing her expression, he guessed probably not.

“I needed him to know how important—” She screeched on the brakes, likely remembering exactly why she had needed the kids gone.

Did she really think he’d turn her in? Her lack of trust stung for no good reason. He’d only been here a week. She didn’t know him that well.

Conall sighed. “I won’t turn you in, Lia.”

Could her eyes get any wider? “Turn me in for…what?” she whispered.

“I know those kids are illegal.”

“How…?” She really was scared now, panting for her next breath. “What?”

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I promise you.”

“Oh, God.” She backed away.

Conall held both hands up, palms out. No harm. “Lia, I mean it. I know you think you’re doing a good thing…”

That fired some anger on top of her panic. “Think?”

“Will you tell me why you do it?”

She was beautiful scared and mad. The green seemed intensified in her eyes. Lashes clumped together from her earlier tears. She almost vibrated from the force of her emotions.

No, she was always beautiful. He admired her bustling in the kitchen, he liked her shy, maybe most of all he was stirred by her tenderness with the children. He had yet to see a moment when he didn’t think she was beautiful.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked, her voice constrained.

“I want to understand.”

“Why?” she said again.

He scrubbed both hands over his face. “I don’t know.”

Lia blew out a breath, her eyes closing momentarily so that those thick lashes fanned above her cheeks. When she opened them, he saw resignation again, deeper and more hurtful than what she’d felt at saying goodbye to two small children. Conall felt a kick in his chest.

“I really do need to check on Walker and Brendan.”

He nodded.

She hurried away. He couldn’t help appreciating the view from behind of her graceful gait and subtle curves. The braid, fat and black, swinging gently, seemed to emphasize the slenderness of her rib cage and waist, the feathery tip pointing to her perfect ass.

God, he was a bastard.

When the screen door slammed behind her, Conall walked over to pet the pony again. This time the horse came to the fence, too, both noses nudging him hopefully.

“I’ll bring you a carrot next time,” he told them. He hadn’t had much to do with horses, but they did like carrots, didn’t they? He’d met more burros in his time, still popular as a beast of burden for the poor in Mexico.

He heard the screen door again, but waited where he was for her. When she joined him at the fence, he turned and leaned his back against a post.

“I haven’t seen Sorrel this morning,” he said, trying to lessen the tension.

Lia went along with it. “She’s eating breakfast right now. I think she stayed up late online last night.”

“Does she have friends there?”

“I think so. And a Facebook page, of course.” At his expression, she said, “I’m keeping an eye on it. She hasn’t said anything about you or Jeff there. And nobody who has posted has commented. I really do think she understands why it’s important that she keep quiet.”

She was thirteen. A mass of hormones. Conall only shook his head, hoping.

Stroking the shaggy pony’s ears, Lia didn’t look at him. “How did you know?”

“About Arturo and Julia?”

She nodded.

“You’re not a very good liar,” he said gently. “And I could see that you were worried.” He hesitated. “Duncan told me he’d heard something.”

That brought her terrified gaze to his. “Your brother?”

“He told me he didn’t know if it was true or not, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it. The local P.D. stays out of immigration issues. People have to trust them, be willing to talk to them when a crime has been committed. If they’re afraid of being asked to prove their citizenship, they won’t talk to cops.”

“But there’s been talk.” This was said so softly, he had to tilt his head to hear her.

“Maybe not that much.” Watching her, he said, “Do you want me to ask him?”

“I…don’t know.” Lia turned blindly back to the animals, leaning her face against the horse’s neck.

“The kids are gone. You have nothing to fear right now.”

She laughed, but not happily. “Right now.”

“You could quit.”

“It’s…important to me.”

“Make me understand,” he said again.

Her eyes lifted to his, and he couldn’t have looked away to save his life. “Do I have a choice?”

He felt again as if the horse had somehow planted one of those hooves smack in the middle of his chest, maybe denting a few ribs. Conall hadn’t felt anything like this since he was a kid.

Back off, he told himself. I don’t need to understand. I don’t need anything from her.

But now he was lying to himself.

He swallowed. “Yes.” His voice roughened. “I meant it when I said I won’t tell anyone. Talking to me is optional.”

Still she looked at him, her eyes searching, intense. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a breath.

Abruptly he was freed; she was stroking the horse, gazing out across the pasture. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. You’re right. Julia and Arturo are gone. If you really want to know…”

“I want.” Hell, now he sounded hoarse. He wanted her in a hundred ways.

Foolish, and dangerous.

Lia only nodded. “Okay.”